Beth OBrien’s Diary (with apologies to Helen Fielding... and Bridget Jones) Tuesday 22nd February Inches of swelling - 2 Hours of sleep - 8 Noon. Thank God for sash windows. Just locked myself out of my house, dressed in a towel. In the snow. Not as ridiculous as now sounds, had decided in post-sleep fog that would be excellent plan to read paper in bath, so nipped out to bring it in... unfortunately at that point daft cat shot through legs, causing door to slam. Happy ending though previously mentioned and wonderful, beautiful, miraculous sash windows open from the bottom, and had left downstairs one open so was able to slide elegantly (or as elegantly as is possible when clad in periwinkle blue bath towel) inside. Hurrah. Wednesday 2nd March Inches of swelling - have fabulously cut new skirt so don’t care Hours of sleep - 4. Hmm. 11a.m. Almost a year on, and am back - in Cambridge staying with best mate Mary for another birthday. Got my (apparently) traditional pre-party 4 hours’ sleep last night. So not right - I wanted to look pretty, dammit. Still, have wicked new fake jobs for those inevitable ‘what do you do’ moments - cultural attaché to Wales; food arranger for recipe book photography, and also developed back story for sock model which has me doing mostly European brands such as Falke as my skin is too pale for the American market. I call that progress. Am becoming mildly concerned at ease with which am telling outrageous lies to innocent students. Midnight. Just got in - v. fun night, except suddenly got shaky and had to be escorted home by rather worried Mr Darcy-esque rower... shame. Was talking to some people tonight about their prospective gap years travelling to lovely exotic warm countries. Mmm. Thought wistfully of escaping to live simple life on beach somewhere. Yes! Would live wholesome existence in warm climate with simple, local food, and no stress or pollution - v. beneficial for health. Though, knowing me, would probably break leg beachcombing, contract hitherto unknown but serious tropical disease and end by burning down simple beach house by forgetting to blow out candle, causing major diplomatic incident when fire spreads to... no. Perhaps should stick to Surrey for now. Saturday 12th March Inches of swelling - 1 Hours of sleep - 9 (rock on) 11.30a.m. Bad mood. Letter from DSS informing me they are sending Dr to see me at 10a.m. or some ridiculous hour next week to assess me for disability living allowance. Did they read the bit on the form when said have no mornings? Incompetents. On bright side though, will be looking shocking for doc... since when have I thought looking shocking is a bonus? Argh. Must buy new lipstick or similar immediately. Friday 18th March Hours of sleep; beginning to believe I may never sleep again. 4a.m. How do you become renowned? Do you have to be nowned first? Saturday 19th March 9.40a.m. Waiting for DLA doc. Sitting v-e-r-y still on sofa in my bedroom so as not to disturb body at all. Am hoping if stay motionless it will think it is still asleep and stop hitting self with sticks. So far this plan is not working, but I remain hopeful. Aargh. Doorbell... Noon. Turns out he has to fill in my entire zillion page application form all over again during interview. If something is worth doing, it’s worth doing twice, apparently. Still he was v. kind, not at all scary fire-breathing, question-barking, muscle prodding type I was expecting. Quite hopeful. Am going to celebrate with lovely nap. Tuesday 22nd March Oh. My. God. Hip randomly locked today, leaving me unable to walk or stand for some hours, though was able to hop around house on right leg in extremely comical manner. Was with new guy, who fortunately didn’t seem too freaked by bizarre crippleness but instead foraged for delicious Indian food. Many brownie points for that. In fact, think will make actual brownies. Yum. Sunday 27th March Hours of sleep - 7 (grrrr) 11a.m. It really, really is. Evil evil government stole my sleep. Every year I work hard to bring my sleep patterns back, and every year they arbitrarily steal an hour by putting the clocks forward for no good reason. Well, I refuse. This year, I am staying on Greenwich Mean Time, which shall henceforth be known as Beth Preferred Time. Everyone else can work around me. Look, I’m not being solipsistic here – it’s just that it’s all about me me me. [Am now calling Beth the hiphop chick for obvious reasons, which she’s okay with as it makes her sound cool - Ed] -- Justin Folker Graphic Design email: mail@justinfolker.co.uk web: www.justinfolker.co.uk tel: 01225 768347 mob: 07885 515512 Unless specifically stated, any pdf files attached are for proofing only and should not be forwarded for print